


The RAoK Shirt Declaration – or – In which Misha is hated and Jensen has a plan.

by BrielleSPN



Series: Cockles smuts and stuffs [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jensen, Dom Misha, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heh heh, Holy shit this gets smutty, I will add more tags as I go..., Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misha's RAoK Shirt, OH I nearly forgot..., Praise Kink, Protective Jensen, RAoK, Salute to Supernatural San Francisco Convention, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sub Jensen, Supportive Jensen, Top Misha, i am so proud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrielleSPN/pseuds/BrielleSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen had a plan. A crazy, wondrous, hopefully not-so-stupid plan. A plan that would, with any luck, shut the haters up and show them how much Misha meant to him. Despite that fact he’s anxious, and he smooths his palm over his stomach, patting down the fabric of the shirt he has hidden underneath his flannel, and using the action to soothe and centre himself. Swallowing reflexively in nervous anticipation, he chooses his moment carefully, his entire body an exercise in tension as it suddenly presents itself without warning…</p><p>P.S. <a href="http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=3m25s">SHAKLES</a>  huh? Hmmm…<br/> </p><p>[[Fic includes links to videos, gifs and photos to enhance your reading experience]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “This guy may be a tool, but he’s MY tool.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pietoperdition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietoperdition/gifts), [Serenhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenhawk/gifts).



> This started out as a little thing. Then grew into a bigger thing. Now I have several CHAPTERS of thing.
> 
> I'm not sure how long it will go but I'll try to post more every few days as I finish it.
> 
> For those who have been waiting, I'm sorry. I truly hope it was worth it...

~*~

It was the euphoria that did it. Or maybe it was the shirt itself, the fact that he felt calm and in control from the moment he put it on. Centred. Stronger. Either way, Jensen had a sneaking suspicion that he’d just done something that was going to change the course of his life forever. And, to his own great astonishment, he was surprisingly okay with it.

~*~

 

He blames so many things for what happened.

He blames the comfort and the joking and the blowback of pure joy he was soaking up from the crowd.

He blames the easy atmosphere, the sense of intimacy, of family, and friends.

He blames Misha for not telling him sooner how much hate he was receiving, staunchly covering up how deeply it hurt with a blasé comments and an increasingly frequent shaky smile.

Jensen threw caution to the wind, and in doing so he _may have_ kinda fucked up.

But for once in his well-ordered, very restrained, very _public_ life, Jensen – quite simply – didn’t care.

~*~

 

Jensen was on fire. The San Francisco Convention was the first for 2015, and so far the panel was going brilliantly. The banter flowed easily between him and Jared as they answered questions, the jokes coming thick and fast and easy. Season 11 had just been announced, and the fans were ecstatic, loudly voicing their love and appreciation. Because of that both he and Jared were also in fantastic moods; having had some time off over the Christmas period they were rested and recharged, and they happily fed off the crowd and each other, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Jared bounded around the stage like an overgrown puppy man-child as usual, picking up on Jensen’s cues and running with them, clowning around and making the fans laugh and cheer enthusiastically. They bounced off one another effortlessly, their genuine affection for each other, years of friendship and working together resulting in a deep bond and easy camaraderie that shone through in everything they did, turning their panels into a smooth, well-oiled machine. It was comfortable and fun, and Jensen happily hung back in the background where he was generally most at ease, willingly letting Jared take the lead and guide the direction of the panel where he wanted it to go. And if, half way through, Jensen couldn’t seem to stop himself from [talking about Misha](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=19m05s) – like he always did, an unconscious grin and accompanying blush lighting up his face – he could tell himself it was the fans fault. They were the ones who asked about pranks, _again_ , and _this_ crowd thankfully seemed to enjoy it; they (for the most part) appeared to embrace Misha, and as Jared retold (for the millionth time), [the tale of the first time they met](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=19m35s) the older man – the day Jensen’s life changed forever – he watched them, drinking in their acceptance and riding the very personal high it brought with it. It was in the midst of their passion, their approval and their love, that he had a sudden [flash of inspiration](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=19m47s). A blinding thought that blazed across his consciousness out of nowhere, stunning him into brief silence with its brilliance and simplicity. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something to help Misha. Maybe the fates had entwined and seen fit to bestow this upon him. This perfect moment, this ideal crowd, this optimal time.

Jensen studied the room thoughtfully as Jared continued the tale. He usually didn’t mind the retelling at all, he loved the story; in fact he found himself bringing the older man up at every opportunity so that they could tell it again, or relive some other titbit that usually got him grinning like a love-struck loon. This time though he was slightly more reserved during Jared’s narration, the knowledge of what he was wearing and thinking of doing ( _holy fuck_ ), making him [fidget surreptitiously with his shirt](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=20m12s) during the retelling. He tugged at the material and inhaled deeply, schooling his face to blandness as the private memory of what was caressing his bare skin ran through him again. Misha’s scent still lingered in the fabric, and it made his stomach thrill in a momentary flare of sense-memory, casting him briefly backwards to last night and the time they had spent together. And no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop the memory that slammed into him. He started [swallowing convulsively](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=20m24s), briefly overwhelmed by the remembered sensation of Misha’s come sliding down the back of his throat and he found himself having to take moment to compose himself.

Blinking the thought away before it managed to spiral out of control he [fiddled needlessly with his shirt sleeves](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=20m34s), his stomach beginning to clench in nervous anticipation. He patted down the fabric of the shirt; using the action to stem his anxiety and help soothe and centre himself. As the story came to an end, he realized he had essentially already made his decision, and the [laughter that bubbled up](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=21m05s) out of him upon Jared’s conclusion was part genuine humor, part overwhelming relief.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath he settled back into his role; moving forward the questions were all about the show and he could _do_ that. He could kick _that_ _shit_ outta the park. He went with the flow, occasionally commandeering the conversation and running off on his own tangents. And when Jared [nearly put his foot in his mouth](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=1m38s) – _again_ – he quickly took over telling the story of how he and Evan, (with whom he’d had a brief fling and even shacked up with for a while) [had become friends](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=2m50s). He was so at ease he almost stuffed up, a brief lapse in his attention triggering a [slip of the tongue](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=4m36s) during his recounting and he nearly repeated Evan’s _actual_ words, “What could be _straighter_ than this?” But he caught himself in time, covering smoothly and swiftly changing it to “ _more strange_ ”, and he was fairly confident no one had noticed his almost gaffe.

Maybe it was cocky of him, fuck, it _was_ cocky, still he knew he’d be forgiven for what he was about to do and a small smile ghosted across his lips as he studied the crowd, searching their eager faces for the perfect moment. Nevertheless, a blush stained his cheeks when it suddenly came upon him fully unexpectedly. He was happily going with the flow, smiling and stuffing around when it happened; there was a question about his [personal pie preferences](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=9m10s) from a fan who was a pastry chef, followed closely by a comment about cake. Jared laughed and made inappropriate sexual innuendos – _like always_ – and followed up with a hilariously ridiculous comment about ‘[beefcake](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=10m45s)’ while [miming stripping his jacket off](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=10m50s). Everyone knew that shit like that _always_ triggered Jensen’s inner child so he took a deep breath and appearing so as not to be outdone, grabbed the moment by the balls and [copied Jared](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=10m54s) in a seemingly unconscious boyish display of one-up-man-ship and…

~*~

 

It was definitely the shirt that did it. Misha’s Random Acts shirt. The shirt that production hadn’t even begun on yet and that only its _creator_ had a sample of. The shirt Jensen had covertly taken that morning and secreted under his plaid button-down before kissing Misha’s adorably scrunched up nose and leaving his room. The shirt that he’d felt settle around him like a caress, that had centred him during his brief stage fright before he faced the crowd, fingering it reverently just prior to joining Jared on stage.

The _shirt_ gave him the idea, gave him a way to show support for his man without having to say a single word. An absolute, stunning andsolid visual and emotional impact that would leave the fans with no doubt as to where his loyalties lay.

He honestly had no intention of doing anything of the sort to begin with. He hadn’t initially worn the shirt to show it off. He’d put it on for himself. Just for him. Even _Jared_ [didn’t know](http://youtu.be/tJ6jLxD_hcI?t=10m56s) he was wearing it. But once he _had_ revealed it, and the fact that he was wearing Misha’s shirt was out there, he couldn’t help the [proud smile](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=0m09s) that lit up his face, nor could he similarly halt the bright blush that heated his cheeks immediately following it.

Oh he and Misha had shared clothes before, they had a leather jacket that got passed back and forth between them regularly, and a few other things as well, a hoodie, a couple of shirts, a baseball cap or two… But there was something special about this one. Maybe it was the fact that Misha’s likeness was on it in the form of that ridiculous sock-monkey hat. Maybe it was the knowledge that this was for his charity, that the heart and soul and dazzlingly bright spirit of Misha and what he stood for was immortalized in this one deceptively simple yet enormously significant piece of cloth and thread and ink. Whatever it was Jensen desperately hoped he hadn’t just fucked everything up so badly that it was about to come crashing down around their ears because of one brilliant and potentially stupid spur-of-the-moment decision.

 

Caught between a confusing mix of pride and terror, he froze for an internally endless moment, then – figuring he’d already possibly made a mess of things – he shrugged and committed fully, attempting to cover his brief hesitation and resulting embarrassment by slipping into a [weird, slightly stunted strip-tease](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=0m20s). He swayed back and forth and showed off, hoping to draw some of the attention away from the _explicit_ _connotations_ of his wearing the shirt and onto the _reason_ behind it and the shirt _itself_ , even going so far as to [hand Jared his _own_ money](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=0m25s) to throw at him. He [swung his hips](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=0m40s) and grinned, then [hid behind his hand](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=0m57s) embarrassed when it was over, desperately attempting to distract the crowd and deflect attention off his true feelings by making a stupid, half-hearted joke about taking Jared to the ‘[Champagne Room](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=1m04s)’ after their panel, and trying (unsuccessfully) to hide the blush still flaming on his cheeks. It was most likely too little too late, but _hey_ _fuck it_ , he had to try right?

He got nervous again a few minutes after his little show and surreptitiously [attempted to button up](http://youtu.be/haWz1PWs9Kg?t=3m39s) his plaid to hide the t-shirt, but the fans noticed _of course_ , and he just ended up getting embarrassed all over again so he gave up. Leaving the thing alone and moving on seemed to be a better option. And to be honest when the end of the panel came he’d kinda stopped giving a fuck, and after joining Louden Swain briefly to [sing a verse](http://youtu.be/PK3OFJ9M8p4) of Turtles all the Way down by Sturgil Simpson (his current favourite singer), he threw caution fully to the wind and thought fuck it. If it would help stem the hate toward Misha then he would show the world. He may not be able to shout his love and pride from the rooftops but this, _this_ he _could_ do. So he [made a point of drawing attention](http://youtu.be/PK3OFJ9M8p4?t=2m30s) to the shirt as he stood with one arm around Richard, sweeping aside his flannel and pointing his finger at it proudly, showing it off again before blowing the crowd a kiss and fleeing the stage, his heart hammering in his throat.

~*~

 

After extricating himself from the backstage crew, Jensen raced up to his room to get changed for his evening photo-ops. Finding he couldn’t bring himself to remove the t-shirt, he left it on, simply shrugging out of his flannel and throwing a dark blue denim shirt over the top. Slamming the door of his room after him, he hurried off toward his duo photo-op with Misha, hastily fastening his shirt as he entered the elevator and stabbing impatiently at the buttons. He was out of the elevator and half way there when he suddenly realized that somewhere throughout the day he had unconsciously achieved something he never thought would happen, and that he’d been doing more and more often on stage lately. He had let down his ever present guard and… _relaxed_. His mask had slipped without his awareness OR his consent and you know what? It was okay. It was fine. The world didn’t end, the crowd didn’t riot, and he wasn’t struck dead by a ridiculously specific targeted bolt of lightning. The shock of the moment stunned him to brief motionlessness, and he stopped dead in the corridor, his confused thoughts bouncing around in his skull and almost deafening him. He was pleased that he’d begun to relax, but shit-scared that in doing so had overplayed his hand and inadvertently revealed the depth and breadth of his feelings for Misha. His heart began to race and he broke out in a cold sweat. What the fuck had he just done? Had he just shown the entire world just how _much_ he adored the man? Had he, in his desire to protect and care for him, accidentally revealed… that he _LOVED_ him? His gut clenched in fear and his breathing started to accelerate as he felt himself begin to panic. Gasping, he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, taking deep calming breaths, he desperately tried to regain his composure, reasoning to himself that there was _no. possible. way_. that had happened. He hadn’t fucked up. He hadn’t wrecked things. It was just a damn _t-shirt_ for fucks sake! Thankfully before he managed to spiral further into a shit-storm of terror and self-doubt, his craft managed to save him, the ‘actor’ in him taking over and enabling him to temperhis fears. Not without considerable effort, he mentally shoved them way down in the vault of his mind for the time being to take out and explore at a later, more appropriate time, when he could break down in the comfort and privacy of his own space. Gulping thickly around the sudden constriction in this throat, he took a last deep, cleansing breath, rose and strode determinedly toward the room housing the photo sessions. Fuck he needed a drink. And soon.

He spent the rest of the day attending to his obligations, posing for the camera during his photos with Misha, laughing and fucking around and loving every minute of the time he got to spend with his man. However, unconsciously seeking comfort, he couldn’t stop his fingers from wandering over to [touch Misha](http://starstruckspnenthusiast.tumblr.com/post/128388621531/cockles-photo-ops) every opportunity he got. Just the act of laying hands on the man calmed and centred him. Brought him back to himself. No one would ever notice anyway right? And even if they did, surely they wouldn’t know _why._ … _right_? They’d just think they were the best of friends, like him and Jared. Which they _were_. Well…kinda. At one point Misha raised an eyebrow at him (which – _Jesus Christ_ – did all manner of things to him that he didn’t even want to _think_ about right then and there), silently asking if he was ok, and he nodded imperceptivity, telling him without words that he was fine, he was okay, and that they’d talk about it later when they were alone and he could wrap himself up in the security of Misha’s arms and voice his worries privately. All to soon the session came to an end and with a final photograph, an all-to-brief goodbye, and a lingering glance, he finished his photo-ops with Misha and left, his highly developed work ethic and sense of professional pride the only thing stopping him from staying longer, no matter how desperately he coveted Misha’s presence.

Moving on to his ops with Jared, they breezed through them like the well-oiled machine they were. There were some weird ones true, and even some that made him cringe. But again, he was a professional, and he gave the people their money’s worth to the best of his ability, snapping into poses with an ease that was both familiar and automatic. Then came the autographs; ninety minutes of laughing, listening and empathising with the fans, but the whole time his mind was elsewhere, keenly aware that although he didn’t seem to know anything earlier, if he hadn’t already Misha was sure to hear what had happened on stage any moment.  Every time the thought of how he might react crossed Jensen’s mind it sent a thrilling jolt to his groin, and he found himself having to take several brief breaks throughout the rest of the evening in an admittedly somewhat futile attempt to dial back his anticipation and curb the flush of arousal curling in his gut from spiralling completely and spectacularly out of control in front of the entire world; or his small part of it anyway. Closing his eyes briefly, he concentrated on his breathing, focusing on the image of Misha’s face – only his face – taking several deep breaths and opening his eyes he plastered a smile on his face, inadvertently causing the next person in line to stumble a little on their way up to him. He could get through this. Just a little while longer and he could escape to his room and fall apart in private. Shit.


	2. “Just one of many, many manly moments.”

By the time he managed to escape to his room, Jensen had managed to work himself into quite a state, his tension and anticipation reaching impressive new heights even for him. He barely had time to close the door behind him, wearily turning to rest his forehead against the soothing solidity of the timber, before his phone rang; shocking the fuck out of him and making his heart rocket straight up and rudely attempt to climb out of his throat. He fumbled it out of his back pocket, stomach fluttering nervously, his usually sure fingers stricken clumsy in his haste. Huffing out a breath he looked down at the screen, stomach fluttering excitedly as he registered the contact photo that had appeared – Misha with his index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture – the photo seemingly innocent to anyone who happened to see it, but possessing several layers of meaning for Jensen that sent shivers down his spine every time it popped up. He swiped at the screen, his thumb sliding over the spot where Misha’s jawline was situated and answered, a relieved sigh escaping his lips despite himself.

“Mish.”

“I saw. Why didn’t you tell me Jen? Are you ok?” Misha’s concerned voice on the other end of the phone instantly calmed him and Jensen let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“I’m ok Mish. How did you-“

“Everyone’s talking about it babe. Twitter is abuzz.”

“Oh, right. Of course they are.” He sighed again and ran his hand over his face and around the nape of his neck. Of course Misha knew through twitter. He knew _everything_ through twitter. “Mish, I just wanted to… I mean I…” he hesitated and puffed his cheeks out briefly, then blurted out all at once, “I wanted to help but I think I fucked up. The fans are gonna be _all over_ this. Probably not in a good way either. Mish I-”

Misha interrupted his rapid descent into full freak-out mode with a gentle admonishment, “Jen. Babe. Breathe please. I’m on it.”

Tuning himself into Misha’s voice, he took a deep breath, then another. The smooth tones of his man helping to calm his racing heart and stem his anxiety. Once he had settled a little he started to ask what Misha meant but before he could even voice the question his phone went off, vibrating and chiming against his ear and he lowered it, scowling at it in mistrust; the little twitter notification that Misha had set up for him having just chirruped at him cheerily. Considering he only followed a few people, most of whom didn’t tweet much, and since Jared was still busy, it stood to reason that it was probably Misha that had made the update thingy or _whatever_ it was called. Muttering “Hold on” at the phone, he swiped the screen, bringing up the app and staring at it in disbelief.

Sure enough, it was from Misha’s twitter. He gaped momentarily at his phone in shock, then shut his eyes briefly in resignation, groaning softly to himself. Misha’s mind was nothing if not calculating, he loved fucking with the fans, changing his background photo on Facebook to bizarre and obscure pictures, even going so far as to make vague references to their relationship, which used to piss Jensen right off, but that (if he were to be truly honest with himself, which Jensen rarely was) he’d gotten more and more comfortable with lately. But this. This was…actually, he didn’t quite know _what_ this was.

He blinked his eyes open again and forced himself to look at the tiny screen. There, in all his glory, was a picture of himself proudly showing off Misha’s shirt with the caption “.[@jensenackles](https://twitter.com/mishacollins/status/557035805487554560), you clean up nice! (when you put a little thought into your wardrobe you look both stylish & smart!)”. And with a jolt he realized that the little dot Misha had placed before his twitter handle – the sole purpose of which the more tech savvy man had explained to him not long after he joined the damn thing – ensured that _all_ of his followers, even the ones who didn’t follow Misha, saw it. The cheeky bastard. Well…Jensen guessed that was _kinda_ his purpose. Proving to those fans of his that hated Misha that they were so far out of the ball park it was beyond ridiculous. Misha had finally confessed to him over beers and tacos one night recently the extent and breadth of the hate, these people seemed to have the disturbed impression that the older man had come between him and Jared, and would go to extremes to make up stories about them, constantly directing their misguided and occasionally alarmingly irrational hate at Misha because of it. It was ludicrous of course, both men offered Jensen different things in the way of friendship, and his relationship with Misha was on a whole other playing field than that of his with Jared that it wasn’t even in the same ball park. But the hurt in Misha eyes as he spoke about it stuck, striking a chord in the younger man that made him determined to do what he could to fix it. Hence his actions that day and their current potentially disastrous situation.

He looked at the picture one last time then huffed out his cheeks and closed the app with an irritated swipe. Raising the phone back up to his ear he grumbled, “The fuck, Mish?”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Mi-” But Misha had already hung up, leaving Jensen standing there glaring at his phone like it had personally offended him, wondering to himself what the fuck he’d gotten himself into this time.

~*~

 

He had just poured himself a glass of superb 16 year old Whiskey in a bid to calm himself down and barely begun unbuttoning his shirt (one-handed mind you, the Scotch was _good_ ), when there was a banging at his door. He took a quick sip of his drink, enjoying the burn of the liquor in the back of his throat as he swallowed, then plopping the glass down on the coffee table as he ambled past on his way to the entryway.

He answered the door to reveal a grinning Misha, propped against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest and Jensen instantly relaxed at the sight of his lover, his mouth curving into an involuntary smile despite himself.

“Mish.”

“You love me.” Misha declared softly, pushing himself upright and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“What? I…what?” Jensen stammered intelligently. He didn’t quite know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

Misha’s face transformed with his brilliant smile and Jensen was immediately captivated. Misha’s light shone from somewhere deep within and rose up to envelop Jensen, making him immediately feel safe and adored without the man even having to touch him.

Misha poked a finger into Jensen’s chest and prodded him backwards into the room, swiping a foot behind him to swing the door shut in his wake.

“You. Love. Me.” he said again, enunciating every word slowly and clearly and punctuating each one with a new (and somewhat painful) poke to Jensen’s chest.

“Well, yeah.” Jensen shook his head confused. “But I don’t know what-“

Before he could even finish the sentence Misha launched himself at him, hooking his hands behind Jensen’s neck and pulling him into a kiss that was part desire, part desperation and all manner of hot. Jensen’s cock responded immediately, swelling uncomfortably in his jeans as Misha licked into his mouth making him gasp, then drew his bottom lip through his teeth and sucked hard, running his tongue back and forth across the tender flesh and leaving him breathless, a strangled moan escaping his throat without him realizing. His hands flew up to tangle in Misha’s hair and he half-stumbled into him, taken aback by the passionate ferociousness of Misha’s attack.

Misha, seeming to realize what he had done, softened the kiss immediately, releasing Jensen’s lip with a last swipe of his tongue and pulled away slightly. Brushing his lips back and forth over Jensen’s he gazed up at him, and Jensen could see that he was struggling to blink back tears that had unexpectedly filled his beautiful sapphire eyes. Closing his eyes and visibly struggling to compose himself, he whispered hesitantly against Jensen’s mouth, “You love me and you’re-“ he swallowed hard and his voice hitched, as with obvious difficulty he opened his eyes again to search Jensen’s confused gaze, “you’re…proud…of me?” he whispered finally, ducking his head and burying his face in Jensen’s neck, his rarely evidenced yet innate insecurity transforming the intended statement into a question at the pinnacle moment.

Jensen _finally_ got it. Curtailing his burgeoning desire, he wrapped his arms around the older man, pulling him tight against his chest and cradling him, stroking his back and whispering nonsense as he shook minutely in Jensen’s arms. “Oh God Mish. Oh babe. _Yes_ I’m proud of you. I’m _always_ proud of you. How could I not be? Look at who you _are_. Look at everything you’ve _done_!”

Misha rarely showed his vulnerable side but when he did it was both humbling and devastating, and Jensen’s heart swelled beyond comprehension and broke simultaneously, and he fell for the older man all over again. Loving him even more deeply for trusting him with this raw, unguarded part of him; stripped naked of all defences and laid bare for Jensen to consume. His voice trembling, Misha spoke softly into Jensen’s neck, “Sometimes I don’t…” he swallowed again, “I just… I have these _doubts_.” he finally confessed almost inaudibly, and Jensen sighed and shook his head. This beautiful, inspiring, _amazing_ man truly didn’t have any idea of his worth. To the fans. To the world. To Vicki and the kids… To Jensen. Oh he talked a good game but deep down he didn’t believe a word of it. And the hate that he received on a worryingly regular basis didn’t help his vision of himself. Jensen shook his head and sighed heavily at the injustice of it all.

“Of course I’m proud of you, you beautiful, infuriating, _stupid_ man.”

“Not stupid.” Misha mumbled and Jensen barked out a laugh, sliding his hands around from Misha’s back to cup his face, he pulled back slightly to look at him, then bent his head to kiss him gently and repeatedly. In between kisses to his eyelids, his jaw, his nose, he told him how wonderful he was, how motivating, how compassionate and kind and generous. How loved and loving. He adoringly kissed the tears away and Misha gradually calmed, sighing as Jensen made his way back to his lips, pressing them together gently and whispering into his mouth that he loved him, that he couldn’t live without him, nor did he ever want to.

~*~

 

With a groan Misha eventually drew back and laughed self-deprecatingly, “Sorry Jen. Guess I’m a bit of a pussy today huh? Go ahead and call me a cry-baby. I know you want to.” His voice only wobbled a little as he tried to brush off his momentary weakness and cover it with customary humour.

“No, Mish.” Jensen said firmly, holding his face and gazing deep into his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t make fun of yourself like that. Don’t diminish how you’re feeling. You don’t need to apologise for being vulnerable with me babe. You can be whatever, _whoever_ , you need to be and I will _always_ be here for you. Do you understand me? Always.”

Misha searched Jensen’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity before nodding briskly. Jensen’s lack of mockery, his _validation_ , seemed to boost him, _strengthen_ him, and Jensen watched entranced as the vulnerability began to leave him, draining away like an unwelcome irritation. Misha’s calm, authoritative presence gradually crept back in, his back straightened, and as desperately as Jensen tried to hold on to the thread of their current conversation, he couldn’t halt the way the resolute set of Misha’s shoulders, and the imperious tilt of his head made him ache in ways he’d never before thought possible, but that had become increasingly familiar ever since Misha had barrelled his way into his life, an addictive contradiction of adorkable awkwardness and knee-trembling dominance. Misha closed his eyes briefly and took one last deep breath, and when he opened them again and commandeered Jensen’s gaze, Jensen found he couldn’t look away; recognizing the dangerous glint forming there, his knees instantly turned to jelly.

“You’re still wearing it.” Misha growled.

Jensen blanked, Misha’s returned commanding stance rendering him giddy and dumbstruck. “Uhhh… What?” he found himself yet again mumbling intelligently.

“My shirt, Jensen. You’re still wearing my t-shirt.”

Jensen looked down at himself, suddenly realizing that what Misha had just pointed out was true. He _was_ still wearing the shirt. He fiddled with the hem for a second, unconsciously smoothing the fabric across his stomach and hips and adjusting it so that it fell just below his waist. He looked up again, straight into Misha’s heated gaze, and immediately found himself struck dumb for a second (or was it third…?) time. “Uhhhhh…”

Misha cupped his face firmly, pulling him close yet holding him just beyond the reach of his lips. In a voice that was gentle yet commanding, eyes full of promise and a little something else, something... wicked… he murmured quietly, “Jensen. Babe. I want you. I _need_ you.” Jensen blinked at him, watched entranced as his lips formed the words, his breath ghosting over Jensen’s flesh and making his eyelashes flutter spasmodically, and a small but embarrassing sound escaped his mouth without his knowledge or permission as Misha finished his declaration. “Come here.” he growled. “Now.”

A shiver shot down Jensen’s spine and he responded immediately, allowing Misha to take control, letting him get back on solid footing, back to where he’d feel more like himself again. Taking the decision away from him so that he didn’t have to think. It was terrifying and exhilarating and soothing all at once. Jensen had never in his rigorously well-ordered life felt as free as he did when he allowed Misha to take over. The weight dropped from his shoulders leaving him relaxed and languid. Wrapped up in the soothing presence that was Misha, and he gave himself over into his care unthinkingly. Completely. Naturally. Allowing him to take the lead and gently guide him into the bedroom.

~*~

 

They each made short work of their own clothing, Misha tugging his jacket and shirt off and quickly divesting himself of his jeans, kicking them aside impatiently, and Jensen copied him, albeit slightly more gracefully, sliding out of his jeans and shrugging off his denim shirt. When he reached to slip off the t-shirt however Misha stopped him with a growl, “Leave it on,” he said, eyes boring into Jensen’s. Licking his lips he murmured lowly, “Please.”

Jensen swallowed and nodded wordlessly and Misha stepped into him. Running his fingertips down Jensen’s arms he threaded their fingers together and Jensen burrowed his nose in Misha’s hair, inhaling deeply.

Nuzzling into Jensen’s neck Misha mouthed over his pulse point, sending shivers down his spine straight to his groin. His head fell to the side as Misha continued, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, nipping at his flesh, then moving higher to nose along the shell of his ear, dipping his tongue inside the hollow then drawing back to blow gently on the moisture, and Jensen whimpered at the sensation, the hair on the back of his neck and scalp prickling. Misha drew the lobe into his mouth, biting down gently and Jensen moaned, arching against him reflexively, their semi-hard cocks sliding together as Jensen leaned into him, rocking his hips languidly as he allowed Misha to control the pace. Fingers tightening around Jensen’s, Misha growled into his ear, the sound sending a jolt straight to Jensen’s cock, then lifted his face for a kiss, claiming Jensen’s lips demandingly and completely, and Jensen opened up to him, accepting the offering of his tongue with reverence and unabashed desire. His mind blanked and all that was left was Misha, only Misha. His awareness began to narrow, and he exhaled against Misha lips, on the verge of letting go completely. But just as he was about to plunge into the abyss of pure and utter compliance, Misha pulled back, brushing his lips back and forth over Jensen’s with a gentle, “Jen, wait.”

Caught teetering on the brink of total submission, it took Jensen a moment to register Misha’s words and even longer to clear his mind sufficiently to bring himself back enough to even _attempt_ conscious thought. He took several deep breaths, reorienting his mind, and opened his eyes, his sight gradually clearing to find Misha gazing at him tenderly.

“You with me babe?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Jensen blinked his vision back to full focus and licked his lips. “I’m here. Jesus Mish. Your timing sucks. What is it that can’t possibly wait until later?”

Misha ducked his head under Jensen’s chin and nuzzled into his neck. His chest heaved with his breaths as he pressed closer, and Jensen could feel Misha’s heart pounding heavily against his own chest. He was about to ask what was wrong when he felt Misha’s lips move against his throat and sensed the rumble of his voice against his torso.

“What, Mish?” he murmured, “You’ll have to repeat that babe. I couldn’t hear you.”

Tilting his head the better to hear his words, he felt Misha hesitate briefly before whispering unevenly and almost inaudibly against his throat.

 

“Jensen, I want you to fuck me.”


	3. “…I’m not that kinda girl …wait, what. Crap.”

Jensen immediately froze, his heart pounding so hard he thought it was going to escape out of his chest. Had he really heard what he thought he had? They’d never done that before, never even broached the subject. Jensen’s persistent need to feel Misha inside him, coupled with Misha’s inherent dominance had precluded anything even _resembling_ this. His emotions flip-flopped alarmingly, briefly disorienting him. And as he fought to get them under control all he could think was ‘ _Can I?_ ’ He wavered between confused, disappointed, concerned and, yeah ok, maybe a _tiny_ bit excited. While the entire time in the back of his mind the question echoed over and over. ‘ _Can I? Do I even **want** to_?’

He eventually drew back, blinking at Misha in equal parts confusion, curiosity and wonder, “Are you… Are you sure? Mish?” he asked unsteadily, searching his lover’s face for any hint of uncertainty. The dominance was still there yes, but now it was paired with a vulnerability that _wasn’t_ usually and Jensen let go his hands and pulled him close, cradling him against his chest, suddenly acutely aware of the hitch in the smaller man’s breathing and the barely perceptible tremble in his limbs that continued to simmer underneath his outward control long after he had seemingly composed himself.

Misha pulled away slightly, reaching up with one hand he cupped Jensen’s cheek and ran a thumb over his bottom lip, eyes devouring the action greedily. Reluctantly dragging his gaze from Jensen’s lips, he caught his eye, his gaze both hungry and unbearably exposed as he murmured, “Yes Jen, I’m sure. I want you. I _need_ you. Tell me you’ll fuck me Jensen.”

~*~

 

Jensen’s cock jerked and his heart broke simultaneously at Misha’s words. Breathing ragged, he stared at Misha, emotion clogging his throat. He swallowed thickly and searched his face, recognising the desperation in Misha’s eyes as mirroring his own. “Okay,” he whispered shakily, “Yes. Jesus Mish. Yes I’ll fuck you.”

Misha let out the huge breath he’d been holding and hummed, and Jensen detected a note of relief in the sound, on his face, in his actions. It was as if Misha had been afraid of being rejected. As if he could ever, _would_ ever _,_ reject this remarkable man. He cupped Misha’s face and kissed him tenderly then buried his nose in his hair again and inhaled, the scent of the man both calming and exhilarating. Misha sighed contentedly and they stood there for a while, just enjoying the feel of each other. Each adjusting in his own way to this new and surprising yet not entirely unwelcome facet to their relationship.

Misha eventually moved out of the embrace and sat on the bed, drawing Jensen along with him he scooted to the middle of the mattress and Jensen crawled into his lap, wrapping his legs around Misha’s waist and pressing their torsos together, Misha’s bare chest pressed tight against the soft material of the shirt Jensen still wore. They stilled for a moment, fused close together, just breathing each other in, Jensen running his fingers through Misha’s hair and whispering in his ear that he loved him, wanted him, needed him, and Misha running his hands up under the shirt to kneed the taught muscles of Jensen’s back. Even though he was about to fuck this exquisite man ( _holy shit_ ), Jensen had no illusions as to who was in control and he allowed Misha take the lead, falling easily – nay, _eagerly_ – back under his spell, content and more than willing to go at his pace. Fuck, content to do _whatever_ he wanted really. And _oh God_ , the thought alone caused Jensen’s stomach to thrill and his cock lurched, a needy whine unintentionally slipping through his lips. Misha growled possessively in response to the wrecked sound and that was all it took to garner Jensen’s complete and utter surrender. As if there were _ever_ any doubt.

~*~

 

Grasping Jensen’s ass, Misha lifted him easily, flipping them over and laying him gently on the bed. Fitting his body over him, he resting his weight on his elbows and gazed down at Jensen, his love and adoration blatantly evident in the way he drank in Jensen’s eyes, cheekbones, lips and jaw. He leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, licking in through Jensen’s lips unhurriedly and sucking his full bottom one into his mouth. Jensen reached up and curled his hands around the nape of Misha’s neck, carding his fingers into Misha’s messy hair and pulled him closer, rocking his hips up, and gasping as their trapped lengths brushed together between their bodies.

Misha hissed at the contact, jerking his hips and nipping reflexively at Jensen’s bottom lip making him gasp. Slotting a knee between Jensen’s thighs he rutted against him, their cocks sliding against each other, perfect friction making them pant and moan as they rocked together. Dragging his lips away and chuckling hoarsely at Jensen’s protesting whine, he shushed him gently, mildly scolding, then continued trailing open mouthed kisses and nips over his chin to his throat. Jensen arched his head back helplessly, his absolute trust evident in the way he freely exposed the vulnerable underside of his throat for Misha to ravage; breath catching as the scruff on Misha’s own face burned a heated path of pleasure and pain along his skin flooding his desire heightened senses with an almost painful flush of arousal. Running the back of his hands down Jensen’s arms, Misha ghosted his knuckles lightly and oh. so. slowly. across his sense heightened flesh, and a shudder raced through his large frame beginning at his toes and roiling through him, ending in an excruciatingly intense prickling in his scalp. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention, goosebumps immediately breaking out all over his exposed flesh and he hummed softly deep in his throat as the tingle traversed his skin.

When Misha reached his wrists, he grasped them firmly between assertive fingers, and Jensen whimpered with need at the realization of what Misha was about to do, the sound leaving his mouth without conscious thought or permission. His breathing quickened exponentially, chest heaving and heart racing; his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned a wordless plea as Misha drew his arms above his head, slotting his fingers together and effectively trapping his hands within a cage of their own making. Murmuring “Stay” sternly against Jensen’s lips, and eliciting another whimper at the command, Misha sat up and straddled his hips, then grasping the hem of the t-shirt, proceeded to draw the material agonizingly slowly up over Jensen’s torso, grazing his nails across his stomach and chest as he moved. Jensen’s muscles quivered in response and he shivered again at the duel sensation of chilled air hitting his heated flesh as Misha gradually exposed it, his fingernails scratching deliciously over his chest. His skin tingled almost painfully, goosebumps again flash appearing and rolling across his entire body. His nipples promptly shrank into rock-hard nubs, and Jensen gasped, his lips forming wordless sounds, the pleasure elicited by Misha’s actions so acute it was virtually unbearable. Misha tugged the fabric gently up over his head and continued, gliding it up his arms, but when he got to his wrists he stopped. Jensen’s eyes flew open, breath catching, stomach thrilling as Misha licked his lips and grinning wickedly, winked at him, then with a swift twist of his hands, caught Jensen’s wrists in the fabric of the shirt, efficiently imprisoning them. He twisted the material tight into a long tube then curled it over on itself and tucked it into Jensen’s palms, patting his fingers around it and making sure it was secure.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes narrowing critically as he inspected his handiwork. Jensen flushed under his gaze and bit his lip, his groin spasming, cock jerking against his hip at the predatory look in the older man’s eye. Misha nodded once, apparently satisfied with his handiwork and leaned forward, cupping Jensen’s cheek reverently, thumb grazing softly over pinked and swollen lips, and Jensen – fully pliant under Misha’s loving ministrations – leaned into the touch, sighing.

Smiling warmly at Jensen’s natural docility, eyes blown dark with desire, he drank in the exquisite sight Jensen made laid out before him crooning, “Oh yes. You look stunning babe. All trussed up in my shirt like that. So, so beautiful. So perfect.” Jensen’s felt a curl of heat unfurl in his stomach and he mewled, overwhelmed with a flush of pride. Taking a breath and licking his lips, he let it out gradually, allowing himself to relax. Wrapped up in Misha’s adoring gaze, he inhaled deeply once more, holding the air in his lungs for just that second too long, then exhaled slowly and steadily. His body calmed and he melted into the mattress, all the tension leaving him in a single, perfect, soul cleansing breath. His awareness narrowed and became sharp and focussed, his universe stilling and quieting. Shrinking down and reforming itself to house only himself and the man above him. It bowed and wove itself around them, supporting and cradling them like a lover. He bent to Misha’s will gratefully, addicted to and strengthened by the power only true supplication to his lover could bring him. In that timeless moment – Misha’s shirt wound around his wrists, the man himself gazing at him with pure unabashed love and gratitude, so much pride and adoration; like he was something precious, a priceless renaissance painting; imagined, designed and tenderly coaxed to life exclusively for him. – Jensen, for once in his tightly scripted life, felt _truly_ beautiful. Unfettered. Limitless. …Free.

 

Gazing up into the cobalt depths of the man he loved, Jensen Ackles; Actor. Director. Father. Husband.; consummate professional and all round good guy, was – _finally –_ at peace.


	4. “(Or as he likes to be called: Cabin Boy.)”

“Purse your lips for me babe.” Misha purred, “Please.” And Jensen did, briefly biting unconsciously at the swell of his lower lip beforehand then licking them – Misha humming low in his throat at the action – before pressing them together, his plump lower lip protruding just past the sculpted upper one, and Misha’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath, a primal growl escaping his throat at the exquisite sight Jensen made.

“Hold still Jen.” Misha commanded, searching Jensen’s gaze, “Don’t move until I tell you to.” Jensen nodded, a brief jerk of his chin, accepting Misha’s direction with an obedience that was as fundamental to him as breathing.

Misha nodded, “Good boy.” he approved, and Jensen flushed with pride.

Misha scooted up Jensen’s body and sat lightly on his chest, placing one hand on his own thigh and grasping the base of his cock loosely with the other, he caught and held Jensen’s eyes as he twitched his hips and settled the tip of his cock against Jensen’s lips. He stilled for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he observed the flare of hunger that instantly flooded Jensen’s eyes, then slowly, oh so slowly began to slide his cock across the crease of Jensen’s perfect lips. He circled it over and around the bow of his top lip, then down to glide against the plumpness of his lower one where he pressed down slightly, catching the flesh on the rim of his cock and dragging it down, exposing the moist pinkness within. Jensen’s lips parted and his tongue flicked out instinctively to lick at the tip but Misha hummed his displeasure, grasping his cock tighter in his fist and tapping the head against Jensen’s lips suddenly in admonishment.

The unexpected action made Jensen blink rapidly, and he stared up at Misha in surprise and whined, the noise strangled in his throat, eyes wide, pupils blown dark with want. Misha reached down and cupped his cheek, gliding his thumb over the corner of Jensen’s mouth and seemingly unable to help himself, slipped the tip inside and Jensen opened his mouth automatically, biting lightly down on the digit to hold it there and running his tongue over and around the tip. Eyes darkening at Jensen’s instinctive acceptance, Misha growled and slid the finger in and out, biting his own lip as he watched Jensen suckle. When Misha withdrew the thumb, Jensen whimpered and strained forward, tilting his head, his mouth blindly searching for Misha’s finger or Misha’s cock; a _nything_ to fill the emptiness, to help feed his addiction. His need. But Misha just smiled indulgently and crooned “No Jen. Not yet baby. Not til I say you can.” And Jensen whined again in frustration, his mouth aching with a painful, blinding need to feel Misha’s length on his tongue, in his throat. Filling him up. Completing him like no other had or could or ever would. His awareness narrowed to Misha’s voice grown gravelly with desire, and the silken feel of Misha’s cock gliding over and around his lips. It was frustrating and at the same time intensely soothing, and he let out a deep sigh. The breath ghosting across the heightened skin of Misha’s glans and producing a breathy moan from the older man.

Without withdrawing his hand from Jensen’s cheek, Misha’s movements started to increase. He rolled his hips, drawing his cockhead back and forth across Jensen’s lips, the head dragging against the seam of his closed mouth, smearing precome across his lips and pulling the bottom one down for a second time. Jensen whimpered and clamped his teeth together to arrest his overpowering desire to open his mouth and suck down Misha’s cock right then and there. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut in the desperate hope that depriving himself of the inebriating sight would help him gain some small measure of control. He lay there poised on the head of a pin, nostrils flaring and filled with Misha’s intoxicating scent, obediently waiting to be granted the permission he craved. He whimpered and swallowed down his hunger, his obsessive need to feel Misha inside him in even the most rudimentary of ways, and concentrated on the moment when he would be allowed to indulge his desire and take Misha’s cock inside him.

Removing his hand from Jensen’s cheek and dropping it to the side of his head, Misha fell forward, arching his upper body over him. Canting his hips faster, he ran his cock up alongside Jensen’s nose, balls brushing against the scruff on his chin, his previously tempered movements becoming increasingly more erratic. Jensen started to feel a little lightheaded, his breathing slightly restricted by Misha sitting more heavily on his chest and his eyes flew open, hands clenching spasmodically around the knotted cloth in his palms, his vision narrowing to blue eyes, only blue eyes, forever blue eyes. Boring into his, pupils blown black with lust and desperation and something else, something gentler, more soothing and restrained. It was always intriguing to Jensen how Misha could be so unfailingly tender and yet so devastatingly primal at the same time. It was a fascinating conundrum that used to keep him awake at night, but that he’d long since accepted as being the root of his attraction to the older man. That perfect blend of sugar and spice that just made your mouth water and crave more. Made you keep coming back even after you were filled to bursting. Moorish. Addictive. Unique. …Misha.

Just when he thought he was never going to be granted the permission he craved, Misha let go of his cock and unceremoniously thrust a finger into his mouth, hooking it through his teeth and into his bottom jaw and pulling down, forcing his mouth open. “Now Jensen,” he grunted, sliding the tip of his cock through Jensen’s perfect lips, “Suck me babe. Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

 

With a barely audible, “Thank you” Jensen opened his mouth wide and sucked Misha down with a sigh.


	5. “Goes deep, literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got long. Oops?

He could feel it on his palate, the velvety flesh of Misha’s rock-hard cock quivering at the soft rasp of his tongue across the sensitive skin, the slightly bitter tang of Misha’s precome making his tastebuds tingle. The tip bumped against his larynx, his throat contracted and he gagged a little, his mouth flooding with saliva, throat spasming; and Misha groaned and paused, giving him a moment to adapt to the fullness in his mouth. Jensen was used to this though, and he swallowed reflexively, locking eyes with Misha and breathing through the sensation, his throat gradually adjusting to the intrusion pressing against his uvula. He vaguely felt Misha release his wrists from the shirt and he whimpered at the loss, Misha smiling indulgently and soothing him with a gentle “I know Jen. Next time okay baby? For now I need to feel you. Feel your hands on me. I need you to touch me. Make me ready, make me yours.” Jensen’s cock jerked at Misha’s words and he desperately wanted to speak but all he could do was blink at him in response, Misha’s cock filling his mouth making it impossible for him to answer with actual words. Instead he mewled his obedience, raking his gaze over the older man, green eyes blown black with desire as he hungrily devoured the lithe form curled over him, all sleek lines and ropey muscle, sinful hips aligned with his eyesight. “Good boy” Misha praised lowly, and Jensen flushed with pride.

Corded muscles in his shoulders bunching in restraint, Misha’s strong arms and legs quivered as he held himself back from thrusting into Jensen’s mouth until he was ready. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Jensen’s hands flew from above his head, the deadness and pins and needles in his limbs ignored as he grasped Misha’s hips, pulling him in with a jerk and guiding him up and down, forcing him to fuck his mouth. Urging him on, harder, faster; his craving for the man overwhelming his physical boundaries and customary good sense. Misha gave in with a groan, rocking his hips and thrusting deeply into Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen whimpered in pleasure, licking and sucking Misha’s cock until his hips started to shudder unevenly above him, a guttural moan escaping from his throat. Jensen swirled his tongue around the head, down under the glans and up again through the slit, dragging his teeth lightly over the engorged flesh and nipping at the tip, blissed out on his power to create the noises coming out of the older man, the taste of Misha’s precome on his tastebuds heady, and intoxicating. Jensen was in heaven. Punch-drunk on love and lust and desire and he never wanted it to end. His own cock rested heavy and full on his waist, leaking precome against his hip and he canted his hips blindly, desperately searching for a friction that wasn’t there.

Which was why he whined loudly in protest when with a grunt, Misha abruptly slid his cock out of his mouth. Lips and throat aching for more, he impulsively tried to follow but Misha again tapped the head against his lips, “Greedy boy,” he growled hoarsely, and Jensen whimpered, wiggling on the bed in frustration.

Scooting forward, Misha reached across and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside table and flipping open the lid, dropped it on the bed beside Jensen. He raised himself up and straddled Jensen’s head, spreading his legs wide and positioning his insanely hot runners ass over his face. Jensen slid his hands from Misha’s hips to underneath his thighs to help steady him and Misha reached down and pulled the cheeks of his ass apart. Slowly lowering himself toward Jensen’s lips he murmured, “Make me ready Babe” and Jensen didn’t even hesitate, he dove right in, licking into the opening and running his tongue around the pucker, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as the tip of his tongue pushed past the tight muscle of Misha’s hole. Misha moaned brokenly as Jensen pointed his tongue and slowly began to fuck it in and out, his eyes widening in fascination as he watched the clenched muscle quiver and begin to loosen up under his attentions.

Jensen ran his hands across Misha’s thighs and under his ass, delighting at the feel of the muscles shifting and bunching under his skin and took over holding his cheeks apart, dipping one finger tentatively into the cleft and Misha moved his hands, placing one on the bedhead above him to hold himself up and using the other to slowly fist his own cock. He groaned as Jensen withdrew his tongue and replaced it with his fingertip, teasing his ass gently and swirling it through the slickness of his saliva in ever diminishing circles until he finally brushed over the puckered skin of his hole. Pulling away briefly and fumbling for the lube, he grabbed the bottle and slicked up his fingers, then tossing it to the side, slipped one finger back into the opening, tracing Misha's clenched hole experimentally. Misha strained toward it intuitively, muscles quivering, and Jensen watched utterly enthralled as his finger disappeared inside Misha as he bore down, sinking onto the digit with a gasp and a guttural moan.

~*~

 

Painfully aroused and equal parts intrigued and fascinated, Jensen slid his finger in up to the second knuckle then out again, his breathing becoming increasingly uneven as he repeated the action over and over, twisting and probing; very nearly overcome by the inebriating sight of his finger vanishing into and out of his lover. When Jensen’s fingertip found his prostate, Misha swore and jerked forward. Abruptly letting go of his cock and arching his back like a cat, he dropped both hands to the mattress and locked his elbows, his entire body stiffening and Jensen froze, his eyes widening in contrition and flying up to meet Misha’s, certain he’d done something wrong; but Misha just moaned, the wrecked look on his lover’s face convincing Jensen that no, what he was doing was right, and even more importantly, it was oh so _good_. Nevertheless, his conditioning made him pause, waiting for Misha to speak, which he did after an endless moment, granting him permission with a grunted “Fuck Jen don’t stop” before he hesitantly continued, carefully pressing a second finger inside, utterly captivated by the look on Misha’s face as his mouth slackened and dropped open, face flushed pink with pleasure. Transforming and elevating him into the most stunning entity Jensen had ever seen.

Overwhelmed with love and pride, Jensen started to pump his fingers in and out, slowly at first, then increasingly faster, seeking out Misha’s prostate, a reverential “Oh god” escaping his lips when Misha shuddered, moaning obscenly as Jensen crooked his finger and caressed the swollen bump with the pad of his fingertip. Encouraged by the low moans and pants he was wringing from the other man, he eased in a third, separating them slightly like Misha did to him and working him open, and Misha began to writhe above him, rolling his hips and fucking himself on Jensen’s fingers. His rock-hard cock listed from side to side as he moved, beads of precome appearing on the slit and dripping off the head and Jensen couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought of it, craving a taste, and he whined his need, the intoxicating sight paired with the obscene noises tumbling from Misha’s mouth causing him to unconsciously mirror Misha’s movements. Matching Misha’s breathy gasps breath for breath he rocked his hips in sync, his own cock full and heavy on his stomach, leaking precome onto the gentle swell of his belly, the sticky fluid gathering and pooling in his navel.

Punch-drunk and floating on sight and sound yet keenly alert to his lover’s every quiver and gasp, he stilled immediately when Misha ground out “Jensen stop.”, again worried that he had done something wrong. But Misha soothed him with a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and ghosting his thumb across Jensen’s lips he reassured him huskily “Baby if you keep going, I’m not gonna last much longer.” Jensen nodded and nuzzled into Misha’s hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb as it lingered on his lips. _That_ he could understand, Misha had done that to him. Worked him over until he came untouched shivering and panting under Misha’s skilled fingers and talented tongue. And _holy fuck_ , the memory that slammed into him with Misha’s confession made the thought that he could make Misha come apart the same way even hotter. Gently sliding his fingers out of Misha, he realized distractedly that they were somewhat cramped from the tight muscles of Misha’s hole clenching around them, and he eyed them curiously, flexing them a few times before settling them on Misha’s thigh.

Misha pulled back, sliding down and covering Jensen’s body with his own, fitting them together like puzzle pieces and capturing Jensen’s lips in a heated kiss, biting and sucking passionately and licking through his teeth, groaning at the taste of himself on Jensen’s tongue. He growled “Fuck babe, you taste so good” into Jensen’s mouth, and sucked his tongue hard, sending a burst of heat straight to Jensen’s cock and Jensen whimpered against his lips as they rocked together, cocks sliding against each other, Misha’s still hot and wet from Jensen’s mouth, both slick with precome.

With a final nip and a lick to Jensen’s bottom lip Misha pulled back, and Jensen whined at the loss, straining to follow but Misha placed a hand on his collarbone, pressing him into the mattress and growling “Stay”. Jensen’s stomach thrilled at the command and he bit his bottom lip as a flush of heat washed over him, senses tingling at the power in Misha voice and the heat in his eyes. Spanning Jensen’s waist with firm hands to steady himself, Misha raised himself up onto the balls of his feet, squatting over Jensen’s hips. Heart thumping unevenly in his chest, Jensen’s breathing stuttered and faltered and he held his breath, the unfamiliar yet stunningly beautiful sight of Misha poised above him almost too much for him to bear.

~*~

 

Jensen couldn’t believe this was happening. His eyes locked on Misha’s he reached out blindly, fingers grasping the underneath of his muscular thighs ( _those fucking thighs_ ) to steady him and Misha grabbed the lube, pouring some into his hand then, dropping the bottle onto the bed, he reached down, fisting Jensen’s cock and pumped, sliding his talented fingers up and down and running his thumb across the slit, spreading the lube all over Jensen's cock and prepping him, every smooth slip and twist of his hand making Jensen gasp. Dragging his gaze from Misha’s, Jensen followed the movement with his eyes, moaning as Misha positioned the tip against his tight rim, swiping it back and forth against the puckered skin a few times, then, taking a deep breath, slowly lowered himself onto Jensen’s cock with a moan.

Jensen held his breath as his cockhead breached the clenched muscle of Misha’s ass, the duel onslaught of sight and touch almost doing him in immediately, and he seriously thought he was going to die or pass out, or something. The overpowering sensations coupled with the love and trust Misha was showing him provoked a crushing assortment of emotions he wasn’t sure how to deal with, and he blinked up at Misha, his eyes unexpectedly filling with tears at the rush of feelings suddenly overwhelming him.

Misha pulled off abruptly, and Jensen gasped, shocked at the sudden loss. Shifting back onto his knees and leaning forward he searched Jensen’s face worriedly, then gently kissed him, whispering against his lips, “Jen? What is it babe?” the concerned tone in his voice nearly doing Jensen in.

Jensen wrapped his arms around Misha, pulling him close and buried his face in his neck. “I’m ok babe,” he gulped, “I just…” blinking the tears from his vision he sighed against the damp skin of Misha’s throat causing goose-bumps to break out on his flesh, the fine hairs on the back of Misha’s neck standing up. “You’re so beautiful Mish. And I just… Sometimes I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that we’re here. That you’re here. With me.”

“Shhhh Jen.” Misha soothed. “I know babe, I feel the same. Shhh baby. I’ve got you,” he crooned, then Misha pulled back and gazed lovingly into Jensen’s eyes asking, “Do you trust me Jen?”

Jensen stilled immediately, looking up at him without blinking. “Yes.” He said without hesitation. “Always.”

They stared at each other for an endless moment, Jensen gazing up at Misha, green eyes glistening, complete trust infused in his eyes and Misha reached down and cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the corner of his mouth gently. Lovingly. Misha’s blue mirrored the trust in Jensen’s green, accepting it and cradling it. Wordlessly letting Jensen know that he was adored, loved, protected. Accepting him not for what he could do or give, but simply for who he was. The gentle private man who gave generously and loved passionately.

And Jensen accepted Misha too, all his weird and wonderful quirks. His bizarreness and inherent generosity. His brilliance and eccentricities. His strength and surprising vulnerability. His kindness. His selfishness. The God complex that made him want to rule the world just so that he could protect it, make it better. Misha like to show off and Jensen liked to watch. Misha took the lead and Jensen followed along behind, trusting Misha to keep him safe which he did with a fierceness that had taken them both by surprise at first, but that they had both come to understand and accept as an integral, core part of their relationship. They were two halves of a whole and when they were together they were complete. An unstoppable force of nature, driving each other to reach stunning new heights in both their personal and professional lives. Pushing, encouraging, praising. Supporting.

~*~

 

Misha leaned down and kissed Jensen again, the merest brush of lips and whispered “Good” into his mouth, the one word instantly focussing Jensen back on the man astride him and heightening his awareness to a point where he was breathless in anticipation of his next move.

Sitting back up, Misha straddled Jensen’s hips, lifting himself up on his knees and steadying himself with one hand on Jensen’s hip, he reclaimed Jensen’s cock, pressing it firmly against his hole and holding Jensen’s eyes bore down, eyelids fluttering shut as the tip of Jensen’s cock again breached his rim then flying open and fusing to Jensen’s as he guided himself agonizingly slowly down onto Jensen’s shaft until he was seated fully in his lap. Jensen held his breath the entire time, eyes wide at the wrecked look on Misha’s face, he exhaled heavily in a guttural moan when Misha stopped, utterly overwhelmed at the feeling of being completely sheathed balls deep inside Misha. Wrapped up inside the man he adored for the very first time. And holy fuck Jensen nearly came undone right then and there at the feeling of Misha’s tight hole closing around his cock, the muscles flexing and clenching, adjusting to his fullness, and he let out a sob, sitting up abruptly and crushing Misha to his chest. Panting, he wound one arm around his waist and fisted his other hand in Misha’s hair. Angling his head down he grated roughly into his ear, “Fuck, Mish. Don’t…don’t, move. Please. I can’t… I just… I need a minute okay?”

Chest heaving, Misha nodded and brought his arms up to wind around Jensen’s upper back, fingers digging into his shoulder muscles, his own breathing hoarse and uneven.

Misha shifted slightly, grunting harshly as the head of Jensen’s cock grazed the swollen bump of his prostate and Jensen nearly lost control at the duel onslaught of sensation and sound, the walls of Misha’s hole fluttering distractingly around his cock as he fought to hold himself still. Fuck, he didn’t know how the hell Misha managed to do this every time without losing it, he was teetering on the edge already and Misha had barely begun.

 

Then Misha moved and Jensen’s world exploded.

 

Spreading his legs wider, Misha brought his knees one by one up to his sides, then swung his legs forward, wrapping them tightly around Jensen’s waist. Jensen held as still as he could, afraid that if he moved he’d totally loose his shit and it’d be over before it really began.

“Move Jen,” Misha commanded hotly, breathing harsh. “Fuck me. Please. I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you moving inside me. Fill me up Jensen. Make me yours.” And Jensen lost the small measure of control he’d been desperately clinging to.

It hit him all at once and he snapped his hips violently, one hand flying up to clamp down on Misha’s shoulder, the other in his hair, he bent his knees and dug his heels into the mattress, forcing Misha’s body down as he thrust upwards; fucking up into him, pounding his ass hard, the hand fisted in his hair clutching and spasming, fingernails digging into his scalp as he roughly jerked Misha’s head to the side in his fervour, moaning and sucking roughly at his throat. Grasping Jensen close, Misha growled and met him thrust for thrust, grinding down onto his cock and grunting as the head dragged repeatedly over his prostate, every furious buck and roll of his hips sending Jensen rocketing toward a quick release. It was fast and dirty and Jensen came with a wail, gasping Misha’s name and biting down hard on his shoulder muscle, fingernails raising welts on the delicate skin of his back as he clutched feverishly at him, cock spasming, emptying himself fully and completely into the man he loved with a sob, his body finally stuttering to a halt with a whimper and a last frantic snap of his hips.

~*~

 

Blood pounding in his temples at the suddenness of his release, Jensen clutched at Misha’s shoulders and gasped stuttered apologies into his neck, and Misha chuckled lowly in his ear and caressed his back, telling him it was okay, that he understood. He cradled him through the aftermath of his orgasm, letting his breathing calm and his heart rate settle, then cupping his cheeks, pulled back to study his face.

“You ok?” he asked gently, and Jensen nodded, eyes wide.

“Yeah. I just… That was… Wow.”

Misha chuckled, “Yeah, I think wow about covers it.” he murmured, kissing Jensen’s nose. He shifted slightly to try to get into a more comfortable position and Jensen felt him wince and heard his sharp intake of breath as he moved.

“Did I… Holy fuck Mish, did I _hurt_ you?” Jensen exclaimed, absolutely mortified.

Misha chuckled, “No.” he said, “It’s just…” he tilted his head to the side in thought, then grinned. “Different. For lack of a better word.”

Shifting again, Misha pulled Jensen close to try to reassure him, but Jensen could feel the length of Misha’s still hard cock pressing into the soft swell of his belly and he flushed with embarrassment, mumbling, “God Mish, you’re still… You didn’t…” Humiliated, he gave up and buried his face in Misha’s neck. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Jensen, look at me.” Misha commanded and Jensen obeyed immediately. ”Don’t apologise. Don’t you _ever_ apologize for _that_.” He ran his fingertips over Jensen’s cheek and cupped his face, brushing his thumb repeatedly across Jensen’s bottom lip, and searching his eyes. “You exquisite creature. Do you even know how perfect you are? How beautiful?” Jensen flushed and closed his eyes at the praise, nuzzling into Misha’s palm and placing a kiss to the tip of his thumb. Misha leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his lips, “Besides, I’m not done yet.” he breathed into his mouth. “In fact, I’m just getting started.” And Jensen’s eyes flew open just in time to see a cheeky glint in Misha’s eye before his world was flipped on its axis yet again.


	6. “Close ur robe...seriously. Family show. Come on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be shot by [Serenhawk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenhawk/gifts) and [pietoperdition](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pietoperdition/gifts) for this chapter. I guess you’ll find out if I survived if and when I post the next one. ;P
> 
> Side note: I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it, it just happened. The story will go where the story goes etcetera etcetera... Natch.

With a firm hand to Jensen’s chest, Misha pressed him back onto the mattress, then, gathering his legs up underneath him, he lifted himself up slowly, Jensen’s cock sliding out of him with a wet sound, and Jensen flinched at the unfamiliar sensation, his cock twitching and settling sticky against his waist. Misha straddled his hips, sitting on his groin, where he relaxed his ass muscles and allowed Jensen’s come to trickle out of him and run down his balls to coat his perineum and Jensen stared up at him wide eyed, the action so shocking and yet so unbelievably hot that his brain froze momentarily, his lips parting on a breathy “Fuck”, and he stared up at his lover, part appalled, part turned on, and fully curious as to what he was planning to do next.

Standing straight up on the bed, unapologetically naked and majestic in his self-assurance, Misha tucked his feet one by one between Jensen’s legs and Jensen parted them unquestioningly, spreading them wide and Misha crouched back down, kneeling between Jensen’s thighs. Spanning Jensen’s hips with a firm grip, he pressed his thumbs into the gentle swell of his abdomen, kneading the hard muscle hidden beneath Jensen’s slight (and _absolutely not_ at all cute) belly, then sat back on his heels between his calves and ran his hands slowly down Jensen’s legs, fingernails trailing over the taught flesh, chronicling the ropey tendons and corded muscle with delicate inquisitive fingers. The hair on Jensen legs stood to attention, the trace of Misha’s nails scratching over his skin immensely pleasurable in his sense-heightened state and he moaned despite himself, feeling a sluggish stirring in his groin. Jesus Christ. Misha was going to kill him.

Misha trailed his fingers all the way down to Jensen’s feet, then back up to his ankles where he grasped them tightly, firmly pushing them back towards his ass, then positioned his feet so that his toes were touching. Spreading his legs wide, he ran his fingers back up his calves and pressed Jensen’s knees down into the bed. He sat back for a moment and admired his handiwork, nodding to himself, murmuring “So beautiful” then abruptly leant in and licked a stripe up the length of Jensen’s shrinking cock, closing his eyes and moaning, relishing the taste of Jensen’s come on his tongue. Jensen’s eyes drifted shut. Even though he was fully spent his cock twitched optimistically and he groaned, frowning to himself, wondering idly if he was ever likely to get over what this man could do to him with a simple touch or whispered sound, sometimes not even that. Yup. The fucker was definitely determined to kill him. And even worse, Jensen was going to let him, happily marching to his own funeral with a besotted smile on his face and a song in his heart. Probably some sappy ballad too. Fuck. 

Then Misha laughed. The exuberant sound cutting through the post-coital fog clouding Jensen’s brain and his eyes snapped open, rolling baritone notes coating his skin, seeping through his pores and infusing themselves into his very soul; not a single discordant note to detract from the melody that was Misha’s voice infused with childlike delight. He’d never heard anything so beautiful, nor had he seen anything as breathtakingly lovely as Misha when he let go, eyes alight with amusement, pink lips parted, gorgeous face flushed and radiant with humour. Misha sat up, head thrown back with abandon and Jensen drank his fill, drank his light and his joy and his love, consuming it and guarding it jealously; watching him entranced as he eventually subsided into giggles, trickling to a stop, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips and dazzling Jensen with a devastating grin that definitely should be declared illegal for the good of the entire world’s population and Jensen’s heart besides. His mind completely blanked, stuttering to an infinite halt before limping doggedly onward as he scoured it desperately for the source of his lover’s merriment and coming up with… nothing whatsoever. Huh.

 ~*~

 

“Scootch over.” Misha said, pushing at Jensen’s knee, and Jensen cocked his head at him confused, wishing not for the first time (or the last either probably) that he could crawl inside his head so that he could experience firsthand and unfiltered what went on inside that gloriously bizarre, artfully brilliant and quietly calculating mind.

“Jensen,” Misha said, grinning, “You’ve just had an orgasm. And a pretty earth-shaking one too from the look of It.” he continued confidently, and Jensen felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassed all over again before biting his lip and nodding his head in shy agreement. “And as remarkable as you are – and I say this with all the attendant love and devotion in the world I do hope you know that – not even you have a refractory period that delineates the term ‘instant’. No matter how much I’d like you to.” he drawled, eyes crinkling with his smile. 

Oh, right. Jensen swallowed, grinning back at Misha in sudden understanding and teased, “Better than yours old man.” And Misha chuckled again and slapped his thigh, urging him to move over so that he could flop beside him. Immensely relieved despite his teasing (not that he’d ever admit it out loud), he scooted over to make room, pushing himself further up toward the bedhead and shoving a pillow behind his neck before sagging back onto the mattress with an appreciative moan. Misha grabbed the discarded t-shirt and cleaned him up, gently wiping the sensitive flesh of his cock and dipping in between his legs to wipe the dribbled come from his balls and perineum, then pulled away, pushing the fabric between his own legs and cleaning himself.

With a flick of Misha’s wrist, the shirt sailed across the room, hitting the wall noiselessly and sliding down, and Jensen followed the cloths flight, silently thanking it as it settled and came to rest on the floor. Turning back to face his lover, he charted the hills and valleys of his face with his eyes, then travelling lower, belatedly realized that Misha was still very obviously – and quite spectacularly he might add – aroused.

“What about-” Jensen began, flicking his eyes back to Misha’s then down to his still hard cock, and Misha followed his gaze, waving a hand at it dismissively before he could finish the thought saying, “Oh this? I did say I wasn’t finished with you yet didn’t I? I’m merely giving you time to recover your senses before I pin you down and fuck you into the mattress until your bones melt, you forget your own name and you come screaming, my cock filling your ass and my name dripping from those sinful lips.” Jensen inhaled sharply, chest hitching, and he held his breath, heart pounding as Misha looked up, raking his gaze slowly over the gentle curves and sculpted plains of Jensen’s body to the masterpiece that was his face. Raising one eyebrow over the wicked glint in his eye and commandeering Jensen’s he continued – deliberate, thoughtful and utterly devastating – “Perhaps you’ll even pass out. Yes, I think I’d enjoy that. And I _know_ you would.”

Jensen let his breath out in a gush. Biting his lip helplessly he breathed “Jesus Mish,”, his gut fluttering, pulse skipping erratically; so incredibly turned on by Misha’s words despite his post-coital lethargy, and Misha winked at him, sprawling indolently beside him and fuck if that wasn’t as hot as hell too.

Misha rolled on to his back and stretched languidly, the muscles in his stomach and thighs bunching and flexing, pointing his toes and arching his back up off the bed, his upper torso anchored to the mattress only by the crown of his head – messy hair falling to curl untamed on the quilt below – and his stupidly firm runners ass. Linking his fingers together, he turned them palms up and stretched his arms straight out above him, rolling his muscular shoulders fluidly, semi-hard cock dragging across the flat expanse of his abdomen with every sinuous and ridiculously distracting movement, then relaxed all at once, his body becoming instantly boneless. Flopping back onto the bed with a low moan of satisfaction, he let his head fall to the side, looking at Jensen through lids half closed over brilliant sapphire eyes and licked his lips, smiling lazily.

Jensen suddenly realized he was staring, his mouth hanging open like a fucking moron and he closed it abruptly with an audible snap of teeth and Misha grinned at him, drawling “You right there babe? Want a bib?” drowning out Jensen’s sullen “Fuck you” with his laughter before rolling over into Jensen’s side and burying his head in his neck. Asshole.

His arm snaked around Misha’s back regardless, fingers mapping the lines of his bicep and Misha’s chuckles gently subsided and he threw his leg over Jensen’s, snaking an arm across his chest and nuzzled into his throat, sighing.

~*~

 

They lay there for a while, each wrapped up in his own thoughts and each other, and Jensen’s mind again turned to the day’s panel. Running it through his head, he attempted to view it objectively, placing his personal worries on the shelf and looking at it from a less emotional perspective. He was proud of what he’d done, and he would do it again in a heartbeat, the desire to protect and cradle the man he loved was strong and unflinching. His arms tightened reflexively around Misha and he pressed a kiss into his hair, running his nose and mouth across the crown of his head and Misha groused and snuggled closer, fitting himself to Jensen’s side like he belonged there. Which, Jensen thought with a fond smile, he absolutely did.

There wasn’t much Jensen could do about what had happened now anyway, and the chips would fall unerringly where they may, he was just happy that he and Misha were alright, that his spontaneous actions today hadn’t fucked things up between them. Everything else would work itself out and they would deal with the inevitable fallout, no matter which way it was slanted, together.

“Speaking of bibs,” he mused belatedly, carding his fingers into Misha’s hair and toying with a lock, then patting it down idly and ghosting his fingernails back down Misha’s arm to circle his elbow absentmindedly in thought, “JJ did something the other day that I wanted to ask you about but haven’t had a chance. The panel today reminded me. 

“Mmmm, what’s that babe?” Misha murmured. Pressing a kiss to Jensen’s throat, he rolled his head to rest on Jensen’s shoulder and blinked at him drunkenly.

“You know that [vision I had](http://youtu.be/jpOta55Pofc?t=10m35s) when Dani told me she was pregnant? JJ running up to me with her arms open?” he looked at Misha enquiringly and Misha nodded, remembering the conversation, Jensen having come to him immediately after he found out, lit up like the entire eastern seaboard and practically crackling with excitement. “Well,” he continued quietly, face softening in adoration of his daughter, “she’s just started doing that and it’s great. Everything I could have dreamed of and more. When she raises those chubby little arms for me to pick her up,” he sighed happily, “she’s so cute I think I’m gonna melt into a big ‘ole puddle of goo. But,” he frowned, chewing at his lip “when I got home the other day…” he broke off hesitantly, brow furrowed in consternation, and Misha urged him on with a gentle “What happened babe?”

“She wouldn’t talk to me Mish. Wouldn’t even come near me. In fact she burst into tears and ran away when I tried to pick her up for a hug. Dani had to go and calm her down.” He looked down at Misha, eyes confused and saddened and Misha smiled at him reassuringly, “Let me guess.” he said, voice unfailingly gentle, “This happened when you got home after the first week back right? After the Christmas break?” and Jensen silently nodded. “Yeah I thought so,” Misha said, dipping his head in understanding. “Maise does the same thing babe. They’re getting to the age now that they know when you’re gone for long periods of time, and they’re old enough miss you and get pissed at you for not being there, but unfortunately still too young to understand _why_ you’ve been gone.” Misha sat up and faced Jensen, crossing his legs and resting his palms on his knees like some kinda frigging Buddha or Tibetan monk or something, his cock now fully flaccid (Jensen privately lamenting it’s loss with a mournful internal sigh) and resting on his thigh. “And it’s worse when they have you all to themselves for a while,” he continued, stretching his back out and cracking his neck from side to side. “They don’t understand why one moment you’re there all the time and then all of a sudden you’re gone again. Vicki says it’s normal.” he mused, face briefly softening at the mention of his wife, delicate hands drifting to rest comfortably in his lap and turning them palm up and contemplating them thoughtfully. Fingers moving to toy with his wedding and 25 th Anniversary rings, he fingered them reverently, momentarily lost in his own private thoughts, and Jensen couldn’t help but think again how lucky he was, how much he loved this gentle, amazing man, and the list of things he wouldn’t do for him grew shorter, teetering precariously on the realm of non-existent.

 

Visibly shaking himself Misha moved to stretch out again next to him, tugging him onto his side so that they lay facing each other. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through Jensen’s hair and cupped his face, studying him with sad eyes, “Normal or not,” he continued in a murmur, “it doesn’t stop it from hurting every single time it happens. I’m sorry babe.” he said gently, running his thumb across Jensen’s cheekbone and Jensen leaned unconsciously into the soothing touch. “It’s hard the first time it happens, not that it gets any easier mind you but that first time? Yeah, that one sucks.” 

Jensen nodded, sighing heavily. He’d thought that’s what it was but hearing Misha confirm it and say that he’d gone through it too? Yeah, that helped. A whole fucking lot actually. “Understatement.” he said softly, and Misha smiled to himself, the word bringing to mind one of Castiel’s oft quoted lines on set and invoking pleasant memories of working with each other and the resultant shenanigans and precious time spent together that came with it.

“How long does it last?” Jensen asked and Misha laughed softly, “I’ll let you know when I do.” he responded, thumb ghosting over Jensen’s lips and stroking his cheek reassuringly.

Jensen frowned at the implication, Maison was older than JJ and if it was still happening with her that meant he still had a ways to go before it got better.

“Maison’s what? Two, now?” he asked.

Misha nodded, “Almost two and a half. There’s a distinction apparently. Well, according to her anyway. She turns three in September.” grinning at Jensen cheekily he teased, “Not bad, I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember,” Jensen protested, and Misha raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly. “I do!” he exclaimed, “The 25th, right?” he stated triumphantly, and Misha’s eyebrows shot fully into his hairline, apparently impressed in spite of himself at Jensen’s familiarity with his children.

“Well done baby.” he murmured, thumb stroking Jensen’s cheek, and Jensen flushed, his cock imparting a heuristic twitch. The carelessly offered praise and accompanying stroke of his finger making his stomach thrill and he checked himself, taking a deep breath to settle his thoughts before they could spiral out of control. Misha’s ability to distract him with a single approving phrase or gesture was starting to become a real problem and what the hell were they talking about again? Their kids, right. Crap.

Swallowing thickly, he continued (only a little breathlessly. He was sure you could barely even notice) “Yeah anyway, JJ’s only one and a half. So that means I’ve got at least – what, nine months? – before this potentially goes away? Probably longer. Shit.” Jensen sighed, puffing out his cheeks in consternation, and Misha hummed his agreement, smiling at him sympathetically.

“West never…?” Jensen started and Misha barked out a laugh.

“No.” he chuckled, “West is… different.” He grinned suddenly, virtually blinding Jensen with his smile. “That boy is crazy.”

“That’s because his daddy is crazy.” Jensen smirked at him, tilting his head comically to the side, green eyes widening in feigned astonishment at his own words and Misha pulled back in faux affront, his own eyes widening and lips forming a shocked ‘O’. Jensen snorted and pulled him in, kissing the shape from his lips and smiling against his mouth. “Fuck off with your bullshit.” he laughed softly, “You _are_ crazy.”

“And you love it.” Misha murmured, deepening the kiss and running his fingers up Jensen’s cheek to tangle in his hair, tugging gently.

“Mmmhmm.” Jensen agreed huskily, parting his lips and flicking his tongue out to lick at the seam of Misha’s mouth and Misha opened up to him, sighing as Jensen’s tongue snaked inside to slide against his.

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory apolo-oh who am I kidding? If I was even a little bit sorry, I wouldn't have written it. Seriously, I'm not convincing anyone at this point, least of all me.
> 
> Misha, Jensen, - If you are in any way offended by this, you can find me on twitter as @Brielle_55555. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know. I will happily buy you dinner and we can discuss how I can make it up to you while you explain to me in great detail over beer and tacos how you happened to read the fucking thing in the first place.
> 
> P.S. Never change my loves. Seriously. You're writing this shit yourselves at this point you glorious fucks. Cockle on my darlings. Cockle on.
> 
>  
> 
> [[Full and doting credit to the beautiful and talented Megan over at [Stardust and Melancholy](http://www.stardustandmelancholyphoto.com/) for her stunning photograph of Jensen. Go check out her work, you won't regret it I promise, she's fucking amazing.]]


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